


Tony Stark Vs. Fatherhood Vs. Halloween

by feetheimpossiblegrl



Series: Tony Stark VS [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Featuring the residual energy of Howard Stark's A++ Parenting, I refuse to apologize, I wrote this for an exchange but it's all self satisfying, In which Tony discovers he is a dad, M/M, Steve's booty is so nice it gives Tony religion, Superfamily (Marvel), art teacher! Steve, parent! Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-13 20:45:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feetheimpossiblegrl/pseuds/feetheimpossiblegrl
Summary: In which Tony discovers he's a dad to a beautiful child, decides to step up to the plate and learns a little from that.He may or may not have a crush on Peter's art teacher because anybody who his son likes is worth his time, right?





	Tony Stark Vs. Fatherhood Vs. Halloween

**Author's Note:**

> I want to apologize before hand because I literally borrowed bits and pieces of several universes.  
> This is also my first Marvel fic ever, so please be gentle.  
> Steve is 30, Tony is 27. I used EMH in that Tony's parents died and he took over the company when he was 21, and Obie tried to kill him when he was 26. It fit slightly better with my narrative. Plus, I love Steve being older than Tony, so sue me okay?  
> I have two amazing, lovely, beautiful beta readers who put up with me saying "hey so I'm going to ask you to look over a 1,500 word exchange drabble" then kindly smiled as I continued to add to it. Thanks to @yikescaninot and @ammypie. They did their job and any remaining mistakes are my fault.
> 
> 3.4 - updates to time/date because current/future works deserve consistency.

It takes a village, Tony quickly learns. It really takes a fucking village to raise a child. Maybe that’s why Howard was such a miserable parent. Because Stark men don’t admit their shortcomings, choosing instead to browbeat whatever it is into submission. When browbeating didn’t work Howard preferred to smack it into submission, and if Tony was on the receiving end of a slap or two, well, Howard just considered that collateral damage.  

* * *

The woman is a one night stand from one of Tony’s PhDs. Most of Tony’s nights at the time pass in a haze. Too much coffee, too little sleep, maybe a drink or two. He vaguely remembers Pepper arranging for paternity tests, vaguely remembers being told how much support she wants for her— _their_ —child. An amount much less than Tony thought she would have wanted. So, he pays off her student loans as well, and sets up an external account for the child.   
                  Say what you will about Tony Stark, but he isn’t going to let his child suffer. 

* * *

“Sir,” JARVIS’ voice rouses Tony. One of the rare nights he actually makes it to his bed. “You have a caller.”   
“Jay.” Tony’s words are muffled, spoken into his pillow. “What time is it?”   
“Sir, it’s currently Monday April 30th. It’s nine-thirty a.m. New York is a little chilly this morning at 52 degrees Fahrenheit.” It’s a normal day and wouldn’t be an issue if Tony had gone to bed at a reasonable time, not just two hours prior, after a 72 hour long workshop bender.  
“Jay, why am I up?” Tony’s words are still muffled his head remains pushed into the pillows. He thinks maybe if he doesn’t allow the sunlight to touch his eyes then he won’t have to give in and wake up.   
“Sir.” If an A.I. can sound upset then JARVIS does in that moment. “A troubling event has occurred.” Something about the way JARVIS sounds, the stilted way the A.I. is talking runs right through Tony. It starts with a ringing in his ears and ends with the numbing of his toes. Unable to fight the fear Tony shoots straight up in bed.   
"Rho- “  
"Sir, I can assure you Colonel Rhodes and Ms. Potts aren’t in danger.” Tony releases the breath he doesn’t know he started holding.   
“Then—” he pauses, still trying to wrap his head around what could be happening. Adrenaline wears down quickly though, leaving Tony in desperate need of caffeine.   
“Sir, I believe you might want to take a moment to freshmen up. I’ve started coffee.”  
Tony mutters a thanks to JARVIS before stumbling off to the shower.   
The smell of coffee wafts through the house as Tony slips on a random band shirt and sweats before heading toward the kitchen. His stomach rumbles, irritated and hungry as he puzzles over what he might have available, or if he needs to order out.   
“Mr. Stark—” the voice is short, clipped, feminine but professional. Much like Pepper when Tony pretends he doesn’t understand what she needs, or when he accidentally-purposely forgets about a meeting he just has to attend.    
Tony does not yelp, thank god, but if he jumps and his breathless “holy shit!” is an octave higher than normal, well that is between him and the intruder in his house.   
“Jaaaaay,” Tony stretches the A.I.’s name out, still not quite trusting his voice to operate at normal volumes. “Whothefuckisinmyhouseandwhydidyouletthemup?”  
“Language, Stark,” the woman mutters into her coffee. And why is she drinking _his_ coffee from _his_ favorite cup in his kitchen at ten-fifteen in the morning? “Little ears are listening.”   
“What do you mean?” Tony pauses, taking in the relaxed stance of the woman. Her curled red hair stopping just above her shoulders, eyebrow gently arching as she brings the cup up to her scarlet painted lips, a playful smile on her face that Tony can’t help but feel is at his expense, it makes him unsettled.  “Little ears?” He can’t help the shame that runs through him when he adds “that’s my mug.” like a petulant child.   
“Meet Peter.” The woman lifts a small child to sit on the counter. _Where the fuck_ did she even _produce_ him from? He is small, five or six by Tony’s guess, with huge brown eyes and curly brown hair sitting in a mess on his head. At first glance the boy looks as if he has been pulled straight from one of Tony’s baby photos.   
“Uh, hi? Peter?” Tony hates the stilted way he speaks in the moment, how everything is a question but right now he is so confused.   
“Peter is your son.”  
Tony just doesn’t have time for this. He hasn’t had any coffee. He only got two hours of sleep. He doesn’t have the time or patience for jokes like this.   
“Jay, dial Pep. I don’t have time for this.” Tony turns his back and begins searching for a different mug for his coffee. Since Red won’t let him have his he will just have to use a different one, he bristles at his annoyance. Tony hates feeling like a child.   
“Sir,” the disembodied voice sounds regretful if possible and Tony curses his programing because he knows that voice, he knows what it means when Jay talks to him like that. “When Ms. Romanov and Peter entered the building, I ran biometrics. She is correct. Peter is your biological son.”   
Tony pours his coffee, shoulders hunched and takes a few deep shuddering breaths, knowing their arrival at the tower could only mean one thing, but needing to hear it.   
“Hey, Pete, I’m sure if you ask nicely Mr. Stark’s friend will put on a nice movie for you on the big couch.” The woman JARVIS identified as Ms. Romanov lowers the boy off the counter and points him in the direction of the large living room.   
With a gesture of his hand, from chin out, the boy toddles off. Little legs quickly moving from the room.   
“His mother died.” A pointed pause ensues between Tony and the woman, both digesting the information. “Two weeks ago, actually.”  
“Okay,” Tony drawls. “And who are you?”   
“My name is Natasha; I’m Peter’s case worker.”  
“I can’t take a kid in,” Tony whispers, chest clenching at the responsibility he knows will come with it.   
“Peter’s mom was very specific in her will. She wants, _wanted_ , you to have custody of Peter. She chose you. That means something Stark. She saw something nobody else sees.” The woman pours herself another cup of his coffee. “We can offer some help if you choose to take Peter in.”   
“What happens if I don’t? Take him in that is.” Tony’s voice is still a whisper. He’s not proud of how much weakness he has shown this morning. His voice and eyes betray every fear or surprise he has undergone in the last ten minutes.  
“He would go live with his next of kin. Probably the aunt and uncle.”   
"That would be the best for him, yeah? Wouldn’t--” Tony pauses, taking another shuddering breath as he tries to steel himself. “I—I can’t.”   
“Mary saw something in you Stark,” Natasha replies, finishing her coffee. “That means something. No good mother, no mother like Mary Parker would put their child in harm’s way.”   
Before Tony can reply Natasha is calling for Peter. The young boy, Tony’s son, stumbles quietly back into the room. A large yawn contorting his sweet features as he looks to Natasha, lightly patting her leg to get her attention. When Natasha looks to him the boy moves his chubby open hand over his face, bringing his fingers together over his chin as he closes his eyes.   
Natasha sighs softly, finishing her coffee before scooping Peter up into her arms. “Think about it, Stark. Mary knew what she was doing.”   
Natasha sweeps out of the apartment in a quiet, stealthy manner. Leaving Tony alone with his thoughts.   
“Jay,” Tony chokes out, voice tight as anxiety sweeps through his body.   
“Ms. Potts is on her way. ETA is one minute forty seconds.”  
And Tony is so thankful for every line of code he put into the A.I.—he’s always one step ahead and often senses Tony’s needs before Tony.

* * *

“Mary Teresa Holland, 27, and fiance Richard Laurence Parker, 30, were killed when a sudden decompression event caused Richard to lose control of the personal aircraft he and Mary were in. Medical experts are unable to determine if the Parkers were killed on impact or before due to hypoxia. Police and field teams continue their investigations, at this time cause of death has been ruled as accidental. Family members are stated as saying Richard and Mary weren’t supposed to be in the plane that evening, and bring up Richard’s nearly fifteen years of flight experience. They are survived by their son Peter Benjamin Holland...” Pepper’s voice tapers off for the first time. A slight break as she tries not to dwell on the fact that a five-year-old child has suddenly had his life changed so much. “And Richard’s brother Benjamin Parker and wife, May.”   
“How can we help Pep?” Tony whispers, pouring water from the steaming kettle into the mug sitting in front of the redheaded woman.   
“I’m sorry?”   
“How can we aide in the investigation?” Tony usually throws money at things, but he doesn’t think throwing money at this will help.   
“I-oh, I’m not sure, Tony.” Pepper adds three heaping spoonfuls of sugar to her green tea. Tony will never understand how or why she drinks her tea so sweet. “I’ll see if we can contact the head investigator?”   
“Did you know?”   
“Of course, I knew, Tony. I confirmed everything then arranged your child support.”  
Which yes, Tony knows that is most likely the case but he needs to hear it for some reason.  
“Are you going to take him?” Pepper asks, and Tony’s heart clenches again. They’re discussing it so casually. Tony, being a parent, Tony having a child dependent on him. “You’ve changed, you know.” It’s not a question, Pepper is observant, one of his closest friends. Only Rhodey knows Tony better than Pep.   
“But—“ and Tony can’t finish his sentence, the words hang thick in the air. _What if I haven’t changed enough? What if I’m just like my father? What if I take in this beautiful child and fuck him up in all the ways I’m fucked up?_  
Pepper lets the unspoken words hang for a moment while she quietly finishes her tea.   
“I know you and your father didn’t have a great relationship. You didn’t even have a good relationship.” Pepper’s voice is soft now, not her normal professional tones. Not even the exasperated edge that slips in when she thinks Tony is being ridiculous. “But, you’re different. You’re not Howard. You’re Tony, brilliant and compassionate and a survivor in a way nobody else can say they are.” Pepper finishes her sentence by softly patting the reactor in his chest, reminding him that yes, Tony Stark does have a heart.   
“You have several meetings today, which means I have meetings to reschedule.” Pepper rinses her mug and places it in the dishwasher before kissing Tony’s cheek as she strolls to the elevator.   
“You’re a better man than you think you are, Tony. You’re an amazing man. I’m sure Mary saw that.” Pepper is on the phone, rescheduling Tony’s day, before the elevator doors close. 

* * *

**Date: May 4, 2007. 10:30 a.m.**  
From: nat.romanov@nycps.org  
To: t.stark@stark.industries  
Subject: Pete  
                  Mr. Stark,   
                  I’m so glad you got a hold of me. I can set up a time for Peter and I to meet with you again? I’ll attach the documents so you can review them before we get with the lawyer to make things official. If you have any questions please contact me at my personal number. 555-560-3314.   
                  Before we meet again I would like to tell you a little bit about Peter. He’s currently five years old. His birthday is August 10th; he was born in 2001. Shortly after the… events in Afghanistan.   
                  He loves bugs. Right now the only thing little guy wants is to be a scientist, studying all the bugs that live in the Amazon rainforest (he thinks it’s the most beautiful place on earth). He loves spiders more than anything and thinks that bees are nice. His favorite bee is the carpenter bee, but he doesn’t have a favorite spider. His favorite colors are red and blue.   
                  Peter hasn’t spoken since his mother and step father passed away. He is fairly proficient in American sign language, as proficient as we can expect a five-year-old to be, since Mary had been teaching him. He now communicates primarily through sign (he writes when the people around him don’t understand). Peter’s hearing is okay. He shows some signs of hearing loss (nothing alarming as of yet, but I will attach information for his current audiologist) but he can understand when people speak clearly and slowly.   
                  You or Pepper can contact me when you’re ready to continue the process.   
                  Thank you again, Mr. Stark. I think you are making the right choice.   
  
                  Best,   
                  Natasha Romanov  


* * *

Tony isn’t often a scared man. He doesn’t contemplate running and hiding. But right now, he considers it. Not for the first time he’s wondering why he sent that email, what persuaded him to reach out to Natasha, to ask to see Peter again, to sign the paperwork becoming his official guardian. To start being a parent.  
“Do you know any sign?” Natasha questions as soon as Tony greets them, forgoing pleasantries. She’s gathering Peter’s small frame into her arms, while Tony grabs the few bags in the trunk of her car.  
“I know some. I’m a fast learner,” he grunts, wondering why he opted to carry the bags himself when he has so many staff on hand. “After I received your email I started learning the basics. I think I have enough of a basis to develop on. Jay is gonna translate when need be.”  
A comfortably silent moment passes as the group heads to the elevator.  
“Is this a sudden change or does Peter sometimes choose not to talk?”  
“His aunt says he’s always been reserved, soft spoken, but he hasn’t gone weeks without talking according to her knowledge.” Natasha slips him a soft look, Tony gets the message. This conversation can wait until later.  
“You said Peter’s aunt? Is there a reason they didn’t get custody?” he is inquisitive; doesn’t want to take Peter’s best life away from him.  
“Mary was clear in her will that if you stepped up you would receive primary guardianship of Peter. May and Ben are good people, but they’re Richard’s brother and sister in-law. She seemed to want you to have a chance. May and Ben said they would gladly help you however they can.”  
“That would be amazing. I have a few parenting books and JARVIS has been giving me recommendations on parenting blogs.” Tony knows he’s rambling. It’s what he does when he is nervous and he’s so nervous because what if Natasha realizes he isn’t ready for this? Realizes Ben and May will be better parents than Tony can? They have more to offer. “Basically, JARVIS has helped me with learning some of the basics and I’m hoping the rest I can get help for.”  
The soft smile Natasha offers him is comforting. Maybe he is going in the right direction. The rest of the quick elevator ride is spent in silence.  
Tony had a team come over the previous weekend to childproof the house. Sockets are now plugged, gates put up and JARVIS updated on how to help keep the kid safe. They have covered the penthouse as well as the two floors below it, in case Peter found himself down there. Peter’s room is done entirely by Tony though. He spends 32 hours and 47 minutes designing and perfecting the room.   
“I, uh. In the email, you said he likes bugs, and the rainforest, right?” Tony tries not to fidget, to reveal how nervous he is that he had fucked up, done everything all wrong.  
He starts by putting a bunk bed almost in the center of the room. Then Tony adds legs to make it look like a spider, Peter’s favorite crawly creature according to the email Natasha sent. The sheets on the top bunk are a plain white with a basic comforter on top. But the bottom bunk, the one Tony assumes Peter will be sleeping on, is decorated with bug-themed sheets, a blue and red comforter and bug pillows. In the center of the bed is a black widow spider plush, one Tony bought on a whim. The rest of the room is rainforest-themed. In the corner, a ‘canopy’ of leaves branches out over two full bookshelves, and a lime green and blue sleeping bag rests between the two shelves.  A little reading nook—something Tony thinks he would have loved as a child. Across from that is an ‘art’ station. Tony puts up a small easel and a table with various craft materials. Something he can use to be creative. A small t.v. and game console take up the last available corner, just leaving a large chest full of toys a few feet inside the doorway.  
“Yes,” Natasha breaths out, eyes wide as she lets a wiggling Peter down.  
His eyes, wide and excited, take in the sight in front of him before turning to the adults. The excitement on his face melts into confusion as he brings his right pointer finger to his head before moving it out two quick times. _For?_ Tony’s brain fills in, Peter is asking who this is for.   
“Peter,” Natasha whispers, “Tony made this for you.”  
Tony chuckles as Peter fist pumps, an exaggerated motion, and runs into the room. Gently, almost reverently, the boy touches every area he can before latching onto one of the spider legs on his bed and swinging on it.  
“This is amazing,” Natasha whispers. Her soft smile growing just a little more and Tony knows he really got it right with the room. 

* * *

The first night goes great, though Tony is on edge almost the entire time, waiting for something to go wrong. He fidgets and squirms, waiting for Natasha to come to her senses and snatch up the little boy, stealing him out of Tony’s life forever. But that doesn’t happen, instead Natasha stays for a while to help Peter settle in. They unpack his items together, the young boy stoic as Tony helps hang clothes and place more books on the already stuffed shelves. After they’re finished unpacking they order pizza, Peter’s current favorite is chicken with pineapple, and watch a movie.   
“Call me.” She shakes Tony’s hand as she stands by the elevator. “Pete’s a good kid, a great kid really. If you need anything, if you have any questions, you already have my email and cell. Please reach out.”   
Tony can only nod, Peter tucked snuggly on his hip, thumb in his mouth like it was the other day.   
"You can do this.” Natasha smiles, waving slowly as the elevator doors close.   
“So, what now underoos?” He smiles to the child, who blinks at him slowly, brown eyes tired. Tony watches as Peter fists his little hands and brings them down over his abdomen, up and down again. _Bath_ , he’s saying. It’s bath time.   
“Okay, we are tired and dirty huh? Let’s go grab some pajamas. Jay can you run a bath? Not to hot not too cold?”   
“Of course, Sir. The bath will be ready in the little Sir’s bathroom in two minutes.”  
“Thank you.” Tony heads toward Peter’s room. “Red pajamas or blue pajamas tonight, kiddo?” Peter simply folds his thumb over his palm, B for Blue Tony assumes. “Alright, blue pajamas it is. Let’s get you cleaned up.”   
Peter loves bath time, which makes it easy. He plays and giggles and let’s Tony wash his hair just fine. He asks Tony to refill the tub with more bubbles twice, huge doe-eyes large and full of excitement each time. How can Tony say no? He draws the line when Peter’s head starts drooping, eyes falling closed for long seconds before jerking back open.   
“Alright, time for bed I think.” Tony sweeps Peter out of the tub and dries him quickly. He helps the boy into his pajamas and combs his hair.   
“Brush your teeth, stay away from the tub. I’ll be right back.” Tony moves into Peter’s room. He pulls the extra pillows and stuffed animals off the bed, and moves the covers back before returning to the bathroom just as Peter is finishing up brushing his teeth.   
“Bedtime, underoos.” Tony prods Peter toward the door, watching his little legs as he goes. “I’ll tuck you in. If you need anything you know how to get me right?” Peter nods, eyes staying closed longer and longer with each blink. “Sign to JARVIS, okay? He’ll either call me or light up the hallway to get to my room.” Peter nods again, this time he hasn’t even opened his eyes to pretend he is listening to Tony.  With a smile Tony finishes tucking him in and heads to his own room.   
“JARVIS,” Tony sighs, stepping into the shower. “Am I doing okay? Was that a strong start?”   
“I show young Sir had increased smiles and serotonin levels throughout the night, Sir. It appears you are doing well.”   
“Yes, good. I—well, I’m glad. That’s good, right?” Tony questions, absentmindedly running the wet towel over his chest, lingering for a moment over the arc reactor.   
“Yes, Sir, it’s good.” If JARVIS could smile, if his voice was able to fluctuate enough to show emotion Tony thinks it would right now. The A.I. sounds proud.   
Sweats and a t-shirt work for pajamas tonight. He crawls into bed more tired than he has been in years. His day has been emotional and nerve-wracking. Quickly Tony falls into a deep dreamless sleep.   
When he wakes the next morning to a little body curling into his, the thumb of one hand in his mouth, the other hand firmly pressed against the glow of the arc reactor, Tony can’t help but smile. 

* * *

The first time Peter speaks it’s nearly four months later. He and Tony are getting ready for their day. Tony is packing Peter’s lunch. Turkey sandwich: two pieces of romaine lettuce, one slice of tomato, a tiny bit of mustard and cheddar cheese. Peter is picky about his lunches and what he eats on what day of the week. Wednesday is always turkey sandwich day. The sandwich has to be crafted perfectly and cut in half, two triangle pieces. He has his sandwich with sliced green bell pepper, baby carrots and animal crackers. Every Wednesday is turkey sandwich day and the one time they ran out of turkey, Tony tried to sub in a pepperoni pita, Thursday’s lunch, Peter didn’t talk to him until Friday morning, after Tony apologized and promised to keep the schedule. Peter moved his fist clockwise over his chest, an apology, before thanking Tony with a gesture of four fingers being moved from his chin out.   
“Mr. Rogers likes turkey sandwiches too. He eats his lunch with me when the other kids are mean and make me sit alone.” The soft voice is hesitant, a little hoarse from disuse but it’s definitely a child’s. Peter’s words leave Tony so shocked he almost drops the mustard. Instead he tries to hide his surprise for later and take the change in stride.  
“Who is Mr. Rogers?” He asks, wrapping the sandwich and placing it gently into Peter’s favorite lunchbox, the blue one with a large decal of Thor, hammer raised high with bolts of electricity flying around his head.  
“Art.” He swings his little feet and finishes his orange juice. He folds his little hands together and makes like he is scrubbing his hands, Tony’s signal that he is done eating and is ready to be helped down from the bar stool where he’s sat for breakfast.  
“He’s your art teacher?” Peter nods, stepping onto the stool in front of the sink. “Well, I’m glad he sits with you. We should thank him shouldn’t we Pete?” Tony waits while Peter finishes washing his hands, little brows furrowing together in the middle as he concentrates on ensuring that his hands are clean. He steps down from the sink, dries his hands and nods.   
“Make him a sandwich?” Peter asks, eyes wide as he opens his lunch box back up, checking to make sure there is room for an addition.   
“Yes, baby, I think that would be nice for Mr. Rogers.” Tony quickly makes another sandwich, wrapping it carefully. He scribbles a quick note and tapes it to the sandwich before closing up the box and pushing his son toward his bedroom. “Go grab your school bag, we don’t want to be late.” 

* * *

                   _Thank you for eating lunch with Peter. He loves it. When I received custody of my son he hadn’t spoken in two weeks, and that was four months ago. The first words I heard him say were about you. I’m new to parenthood, but that feels significant. Thank you._  
                  Thanks,   
                  T. Stark

* * *

Tony doesn’t expect his note to be returned with another. Elegant writing written on a piece of customized stationary, in the corner the top portion of a star is outlined in chunks of blue, and circled in red. It reminds Tony almost of a flag.

_Peter is fantastic company. Witty without words and very, very smart. A reflection of his father? Thank you for the sandwich, turkey is my favorite. But I bet Peter told you that. I’m glad Peter spoke to you, he still hasn’t spoken to me, but hopefully that changes as he gets more comfortable._  
                  Thanks,   
                  S. Rogers.

* * *

After that the routine changes. Monday, Wednesday and Friday Tony has to make an extra lunch for Mr. Rogers. On these days Tony always sends Peter’s lunch out with a note. Sometimes a thank you, sometimes a random thought, sometimes a strange fact Tony had recently discovered. Always the note would get returned. Many times, the note that was delivered back to Tony was a drawing. Thank yous were returned with doodles of Peter, signing something passionately as he sat in front of his lunch. Random thoughts were illustrated humorously and returned to Tony for a laugh. Strange facts were accompanied by drawings of Tony in the lab, sometimes post explosion, other times surrounded by tech with a smile on his face. He is always shocked at the level of detail in the doodles Steve sends back. He saves every drawing, specifically the ones of Peter.  
Tony knows he is at the front of the tabloids, his face plastered on magazines and news outlets constantly. He tries to keep Peter out of it, but the adoption is public record and when the vultures get ahold of the information they run with it. Tony and Peter didn’t have a moments peace for two weeks in June before the information dies as some scandal with the president takes over. He is sure that’s how Pete’s teacher knows who he is. He’s sure that’s how Steve can send Peter back with doodles of the father/son pair out on adventures. Tony’s favorite is a particularly fun trip to the zoo that Peter has to have told Steve about because he hasn’t. But the child returns home on a Wednesday with a hilarious doodle of Tony being swarmed by birds in the bird exhibit, Peter laughing in the background.  
Peter speaks off and on, never saying much when he does speak. Tony gets slightly more used to hearing his son’s voice. It’s been two weeks since the last time Peter spoke. This time it’s Friday and Tony is making Peter’s lunch. A crispy chicken wrap on a jalapeno cheddar tortilla, spinach, ranch and asiago cheese. Hummus with broccoli florets and carrots for his side.   
“Does Mr. Rogers like hummus too?” Tony looks to Peter, not sure if it’s a talk to dad day or not. Peter nods. “Alright, Pete, can you grab your bag? I think we will be leaving soon.”   
Tony is just finishing up the note of the day when Peter comes back out, a handmade card in hand.   
“Did you make that at your crafts station?” Peter nodded, holding the card out to Tony.   
Tony doesn’t try to hide the smile that takes over his face as he reads what Peter wrote.   
                 

_Thank you for taking good care of me._  
                  Thank you for letting me sleep in your bed after nightmares  
                  Thank you for making my lunch, and lunch for Mr. Rogers  
                  Thank you for being a good dad.

It’s the last part that brings tears to Tony’s eyes. In the almost five months they’ve been together Peter hasn’t called Tony anything other than Mr. Stark yet. This is a move in the right direction.   
“Thanks Petey, that…” Tony breaks off, trying to stop his voice from breaking. “You’ve made my whole day.”   
“Have one for Mr. Rogers too.” Pete holds up another card. Tony smiles.  
“I’m glad you like your art teacher. Hopefully I can meet him soon?”   
“Conferences,” Peter says on his way to the elevator, little backpack on his shoulders and lunch box in his hands. “Monday.”  
Tony curses himself for forgetting, remembers the letter Peter had brought home last week letting him know that parent teacher conferences would be happening in the first week of October.   
“JARVIS,” Tony starts, hoping Pepper won’t have to work too hard to clear his schedule for the next evening.   
“Ms. Potts and I have ensured you have a free schedule for Monday. Meetings will resume Wednesday of next week.”  
Tony breaths out a sigh of relief. Thank god for Pep and Jay.   
“Thanks, Jay. What would I do without you?”   
“I would be surprised to see you make it a week, Sir.”   
“Never leave me,” Tony chuckles, quickly pouring his coffee into a to-go mug so he can take Peter to school.   
“For the young Sir, I will consider staying.”

* * *

 

“Mr. Roger’s favorite holiday is Halloween too!” Peter exclaims that night at dinner. Startling Tony as he finishes up the pasta they’re having.   
“Well, I’m glad. Halloween is your favorite holiday then, Pete?” Tony asks, bringing their plates over to the dinner table.   
Peter nods. _I like to dress up_ , he signs sloppily, before digging into his food.   
“Do you want to have a Halloween party this year?” Tony keeps his voice light. He doesn’t want to be too intense, doesn’t want to scare Peter. But since he had taken Peter in this is the furthest he has gotten in discovering any of his son’s likes or dislikes.   
Peter’s eyes shoot up, connecting with Tony’s for a moment before his hands start flying across his face and chest. Tony is thankful for his quick brain as he takes in Peter’s words and connects their meaning.   
“Yes, honey, we are able to do that, and we can invite as many of your classmates as you would like.”   
Peter just stares at Tony for a moment, mouth gaping slightly open as he tries to figure out the man in front of him. Tony lets him, smiling softly between small bites of his food.  
“Tonight, before bed, we should write a list of people you want to invite.”   
Hands move quickly again. Peter seems to have snapped out of his reverie.   
“Yes, even Mr. Rogers and your teachers if you want.”   
Peter’s smile in response is so very worth it, Tony knows he would do whatever he can to make that smile come back. 

* * *

Four weeks of passing notes to each other has maybe given Tony a high school crush on Steve. They have gone from notes on small sticky pads to longer more elaborate letters as the exchange has gone on. Tony will share fun stories of his adventures with Peter and Steve illustrates them, or draws fun adventures he has been on with his friends. If the notes have developed into a small crush nobody can blame Tony. Steve is funny and clever and Peter likes him which means something, it means everything. So, if Tony spends a few extra minutes in front of the mirror trying to tame the very curls he shares with Peter, that’s just because he wants to look nice for a friend.   
A soft tap on his leg lets him know Peter is ready and would like his attention. He looks down to see the boy smiling, holding a few of the treat bags he and Tony put together as thank yous for his teachers.   
“Ready to go, Underoos?” Peter’s nod pushes them out the door and into the elevator.   
“Do I need to know anything before we get there, kiddo?” Tony teases, grabbing Peter’s hand as they walk across the parking garage to the sleek black sedan he uses when he has to take Peter with him. Sports cars are long forgotten when he is transporting a child around. Peter just shakes his head, a silent no.  
“Are you sure? We won’t get there just for me to be told you’ve blown up a building?” Tony laughs at the stricken look that crosses Peter’s face for a moment, before the child dissolves into giggles as well.   
“No,” he whispers. “I’m good when I’m at school. Promise.”   
“Good. Buckle yourself in kiddo, we gotta go,” Tony smiles. 

* * *

Tony doesn’t know it takes so many adults to teach a first grader. When it came time to enroll Peter asked to continue going to the school his mom sent him too. Tony, not wanting to be a bad parent already has Pepper check out the school before allowing it. He’s never personally been inside the building until this evening, though, and he is overwhelmed. He’s thankful that Peter is so excited. The feeling of anxiety building in his chest and Peter’s excitement prompt Tony to just follow Peter as he leads the way. He follows obediently as he’s carted from room to room.   
Mary had put the child support to good use, making sure Peter attends a great school with small class sizes and prestigious teachers. The school focuses on the student’s development and less on standardized testing scores and curriculum. There is a different teacher for each subject and no shortage of TAs and paras to help the students long.   
Peter eagerly signs the name of the teacher and the subject to Tony before pulling him in. The conferences occur in an open house fashion, allowing parents and students to come and go at their leisure. Discussion over how the student is doing occurs and the parent will soon be off to mingle with the next available teacher.  
Tony’s already spoken with Peter’s physical education coach, a funny smartass of a man named Clint, who makes Peter smile with his jokes. He sings Pete’s praises and sends them off to the next teacher.  
One of Pete’s favorite teachers is Dr. Banner.  He teaches the science classes and loves how curious Peter is. He doesn’t hesitate to answer all of the child’s questions and search for answers to the questions he doesn’t know. Tony likes Dr. Banner. He is a soft spoken, gentle, man that squats to Peter’s level when speaking with him.  
A petite woman named Jan teaches the literature classes. She gushes to Tony for nearly twenty minutes about Peter’s reading comprehension and how beautiful his handwriting is before letting them go.   
_Art next_ , Peter signs holding up the last goodie bag he had brought with him.  
This one a little bigger than the others but Tony isn’t sure what he put in it. Tony smiles at Peter, dropping the boys hand to sign at him. With his middle fingers pointed inward Tony moves his hands out and in a circle several times. ‘Excited?’ He laughs at Peter’s facial expression -- duh it reads-- gives in when the boy grabs him by the hand and begins pulling in the direction of one of his favorite classes.   
Tony really tries to keep it together the first time he sees Steve. When he receives that first note back, taped inside Peter’s lunchbox, kind words written in elegant script and a small doodle of Tony’s son on the side, there is no why he can account for this. He thinks Steve will look like any other grade school art teacher, especially the type that teaches at the specific sort of school Peter attends. He expects a hipster, maybe a scrawny man in flannels and jeans. He expects Steve to wear a beanie and have thick black rimmed glasses he definitely doesn’t need.  A lumberjack beard he started growing in high school and now refuses to shave.   
No, Tony is completely unprepared for the 6’2” of blonde-haired stormy sea-blue-eyed Adonis that smiles brightly at his son before turning to him. He doesn’t expect the way the baby blue button up pulls distractingly tight across his chest and compliment his eyes, or the way the khakis hug his hips and legs in all the right places. Tony never thought he would have to say the ten commandments backwards, in a grade school, because of a pair of khakis. Khakis for god’s sake.   
“You must be Tony?” Steve grins, holding a hand out for Tony and he feels his knees go weak because not only is this man gorgeous, but his voice is smooth. It dives into Tony’s senses in just the right way, sending a shiver down his spine as he reaches commandment four, while trying not to think of how his name sounds on Steve’s lips.    
“I—uh, yeah. Stark. I mean, Tones. I mean…” Tony sighs, shaking the hand of the man in front of him. Trying to compose himself before looking stupid in front of his son and his crush. “Hi, I’m Tony, uh, Stark. Peter’s…”  
“Dad, he says you’re his dad, right?” Tony’s never been so happy to be interrupted before because that saves him the awkward moment of trying to figure out if Pete sees him as a dad. Maybe a guardian? Or a really nice guy who makes his breakfast because that would be his fucking luck.   
“Yes. I’m Peter’s dad.” He smiles, noticing he’s still holding Steve’s hand, the other man hasn’t made to move away so Tony lets go. Noticing immediately how much colder he feels without that contact.   
“It’s so great to finally put a voice to the notes!” Tony thinks for a moment that it appears Steve is drinking him in, taking in the lines of his face, his posture and noticing things that wouldn’t be in the tabloids. Like the fact that Tony wears lifts since he’s only 5’9”, but he isn’t wearing them today or that his eyes are a deep chocolate brown, not hazel like the tabloids always claim. Like the fact that Tony wears glasses with square black frames and little scratches on the lenses from when he forgets to take them off in the workshop. “I guess I’m lucky you’re famous so I at least knew what you looked like. You’re seeing me for the first time and…” He trails off, Tony swears he sounds nervous but he can’t tell why.   
“It is nice to finally put a face to the name of the infamous Mr. Rogers my son loves so much,” Tony chuckles, looking to Peter whose cheeks blush a slight pink. “I think you’re his first or second favorite teacher. Does that sound right Peter?” Both men look to the blushing boy, who nods and begins quickly signing.   
‘Mr. Rogers and Dr. Banner are my favorites. Dr. Banner because he likes bugs, too. He thinks bees are nice and he’s right! Mr. Rogers because he draws nice, and he sits with me at lunch!’  
“Thank you so much for that,” Tony mutters quietly, almost more to the floor than the art teacher in front of him. “Pete’s had… it’s been a rough few months for him. We are still settling in after his mom--” Tony pauses, not wanting to bring Mary’s death up in front of Peter but having gone too far already. “After everything happened.”  
“He’s a good kid, only eats alone because of the sign language and he’s small. I don’t like bullies so I eat with him. It’s a small way to help.” Steve’s answering smile is beaming, Tony’s first thought is to compare it to the sun. To figure out a way to recreate it in the lab and make it a form of sustainable energy. “He invited me to a Halloween party you’re having?”   
“Yes!” Tony kicks himself for how excited he sounds, he almost yells in the man’s face. “Peter said Halloween is his favorite holiday. He was still adjusting and didn’t let me do anything for his birthday in August seems like this is a good way to make up for that.”   
“Hey, that’s swell, Tony. If I can help would you let me know? I can bring face paints for the kids, I think they would love that. And if you let me know early enough I can create some decorations? Unless you don’t want my help, then I understand. I’m sure you can handle it, I mean. You _are_ Tony Stark so like, money isn’t an issue. You really probably have it covered, don’t you? I’m sorry I just sh—. “ Tony realizes that Steve is rambling because he is nervous so he stops him, cuts him off, because he does want help, he can always use help. After all, it takes a village.   
“That would be great actually. The kids would definitely love the face painting. I can compensate you for your time?” Tony grabs a card out of his wallet, and a pen off Steve’s desk. “This is my cell, you can contact me on it? Send pictures of your receipts or just a list of things you might want.”   
“I, uh, thank you.” Steve blushes. Fiddling with the card in his hands for a moment before looking to Peter, who is pulling on the man’s hand, placing the customized goodie bag in the hand he’s offered. “Is this for me?” Peter just nods. Signing a quick thank you to the teacher before grabbing his dad’s hand and dragging him away.   
Tony is suddenly under more pressure to make sure this party was perfect. 

* * *

Tony is absolutely one hundred and ten percent positive that nothing else can go wrong. The interns forget to order the cake for Peter’s party, which isn’t a huge issue. At least it wouldn't be a huge issue if Tony had been alerted to that particular fact any time earlier than three hours before the party is supposed to start.   
Three hours before the party starts and only an hour and half before Steve and Bruce get here to help decorate.   
So, Tony is anxiously waiting while JARVIS calls every other bakery in the area because he needs a cake for this party. He needs this cake to show Peter he can be a good parent, that he can do so many of the things that Mary could. To show everybody that he can step up to the plate and be a fucking parent.   
So maybe it is about more than just an overworked, intern forgetting the cake. It’s not about the fact that Peter’s costume needs a few tweaks and Tony forgot to have JARVIS prescreen all the parents that will be at the party tonight. Okay, Tony rationalizes. It’s those things plus he got to meet May and Ben last week. They shared beautiful stories of the parties Mary would throw for Peter. She would spend months planning and make sure that everything went over flawlessly, perfectly. Which is why Tony needs to do good today. He needs to make sure that Peter loves his party. That the kids have fun and they laugh and play. But most importantly Tony needs to make sure that there is cake.  
Because there has to be cake.   
Oh, and Steve. There’s also Steve who texts Tony at least once a day for the last two weeks to see if he needs any help. Who now sends him pictures or silly videos of him and Peter at lunch. Steve who still occasionally sends a doodled note home in Peter’s lunch box, especially on days when Tony and Pete make sure to pack him some food.   
Tony may or may not want, _need_ , to impress Steve.   
JARVIS speaks, letting Tony know he found a bakery that will make his cake, and Tony smiles. Maybe he will pull this off after all.

* * *

But that would be too simple, wouldn’t it?  
JARVIS ferries Bruce and Steve up, dropping them off in the penthouse right on time. Tony is still flying around in a ball of nervous energy. He’s placing call after call because ten minutes ago Peter reminded him of something important.   
They had gone to the store together over the weekend and grabbed everything they thought they needed. They had at least four metric tons of apples, apples for bobbing, apples for candying, apples for carameling. Tony had some poor S.I. employee ferry at least 100 apples up to the penthouse. They had grabbed everything Peter wanted for the goodie bags he would send his classmates and friends back home with. Little plastic bags with pumpkins on the front that held glow-in-the-dark bracelets, train whistles, neon sticks and other things that had made Peter smile. They bought a few board games and the set up for pin the tail on the donkey. Tony thinks they did so well.   
But they forgot one thing, and Tony isn’t sure how, because it’s a Halloween Party.   
They had forgotten candy. He has candied and caramelled apples out of his ass but not a single Snickers, Kit Kat, or Milky Way in the area.   
And the cake is going to be late.   
And the food Tony orders for dinner might be late too, because there is such a large volume and it’s Halloween night so he’s not the only person ordering out. But he might be the only person ordering thirty pizzas.   
Bruce notices Tony’s distress immediately and sends Steve to set up what he can.   
“Are you okay?” Tony just shakes his head.   
“Everything is going wrong Bruce,” Tony sighs, dragging his hand over his face. “The cake wasn’t even made. I had to call 50 bakeries in New York before we could find a place to make me a cake on short notice, I guess I didn’t order the food right because it’s going to be late, nothing is going right. I wanted to make this perfect for Peter. This is our first Halloween together.”   
“He told me.” Bruce smiles, it’s soft and comforting like everything about the man. “He’s excited, you know. He knows how hard you’re working to make this a great party. I think that means more than if everything goes according to plan.”  
A comfortable moment of silence passes over them, Tony trying to accept Bruce’s kind words. He doesn’t know how to plan parties for kids, he never even had a party as a kid. Howard didn’t believe in them. He didn’t want his son associating with children his age, with children that weren’t brilliant. At Peter’s age Tony was already being showcased at Stark Expo events, displayed at parties. Which is why this is so, so important, Tony pulling this off is one step further from Howard.   
“Thanks, Bruce. Let’s help Steve decorate, yeah?” 

* * *

Steve’s decorations are beautiful. He’s created ornate backdrops for the photo-booth Peter and Tony have set up. He let the students help with painted skeletons and zombies that he cuts out and strings across the walls. He even creates a pop-up cemetery for the kids to play in. Tony is sure that will be a favorite for all the guests, probably for pictures too.  
The night is a mess. It doesn’t go according to plan even after Tony tries to make adjustments. Kids and their parents start piling into the apartment around five, held up by the background checks Tony had forgotten to do. They’re hungry because Tony tells them to come hungry but the food won’t be here for another half an hour at least and they have minimal snacks because the snacks are supposed to be for the time after they finish dinner. Clint shows up to help monitor the kids and some of the games they have planned. He’s hungry too, and Tony quickly learns a hungry Clint is a pain in the ass.   
A small hand grabbing his distracts Tony from the growing weight in his stomach as he watches Peter’s classmates bob for apples, snack on the candied and caramelled treats, and even play in Steve’s pop-up cemetery.   
_Ned_ , Peter signs, pointing to a Hispanic boy next to him. The kid is bigger than Peter, but Tony is unsure if that was normal since he and Peter run on the small side. _MJ_ , he signs, pointing to a girl on his other side. She has pretty olive skin, almost like Tony’s and hair that falls in a mess of waves, reminiscent of a waterfall.   
"OhmygodMr.Starkthankyouforthrowingthispartyitsawesome.” Ned’s voice is excited and he’s practically bouncing as he speaks. Tony watches as Peter swells with pride and smiles at his friend.   
“You’re welcome Ned.” Tony smiles, crouching to the level of the children in front of him. “Do you really think it’s good?”   
“Yes,” the boy almost yells. Stepping back when he realizes how loud he is being. “I mean, yes. Mr. Rogers let us help him work on the decorations during recess!”   
“It was fun,” MJ adds, her voice is quiet and thoughtful. She reminds Tony of Peter, every word carefully considered before being added. “I’m glad we were able to help.”   
“Well I’m glad, as well,” Tony whispers. “You should go play. I better see photos of you all from the photo booth.”   
They run off, Tony’s ears soaking up the sound of Peter’s laughter as MJ whispers something in his ear. Maybe this isn’t going to be horrible after all. 

* * *

The food is actually an hour late. Peter’s friends are so hungry Tony thinks they might start frothing at the mouth and begin eating the adults. Which is an issue because tonight Tony really wanted to ask Steve out.   
The cake comes only 20 minutes before the party is supposed to end. It’s a school night, and Tony doesn’t expect the kids to stay after 7:30, so when the cake lady steps off the elevator at 7:10 Tony’s throat is tight.   
But the kids have been fed and they have played all over Tony’s communal floor for almost two hours so they swarm the food and barely even leave crumbs so at least dinner is a hit.   
They destroy the cake and leave at least a slice or two for the adults in the room, so Tony assumes the cake is a hit too. After cake, everybody starts to file out. Peter and Tony hand out goodie bags at the elevator doors. Signing thank you to everybody who came. As the floor empties out Tony feels the tightness in his chest let up. It was awful but at least it was over and he could regroup with his son.   
Bruce, Clint and Steve are still here. They’re taking down decorations and storing them delicately in the packaging Steve had brought.   
“Hey, guys, please don’t leave without saying goodbye? I’m gonna get Pete ready for bed.” Tony wants to thank the men for their help, wants to pay Steve back for the hard work he did tonight, painting the faces and hands of 25 kids, and the beautiful decorations he definitely has to let Tony reimburse him for. He needs to thank Bruce and Clint for making the night seem like less of a train wreck with their stories for the kids and the laughs they shared with him when he felt like a failure.   
It takes less time than usual, only fifteen minutes, for Tony to get a partied-out Peter bathed and in bed. It’s not even eight when Tony tucks Peter in, kissing his forehead and signing ‘I love you’ to his son. Peter hasn’t said it back yet, Tony isn’t rushing him. His mom died only six months ago. So, when Peter sleepily holds up his right hand, middle and index finger pointed down and holds it out to Tony, his heart clenches a bit.   
Tony finds the men in the communal room. He brings a beer for each and laughs when Clint makes a comment about how rich men’s beer probably tastes like gold flake and asshole. They discuss the night, all of them singing praises and Tony is sure they’re just being nice. They don’t understand that the night was actually one huge mistake after another and Tony barely kept it together.   
Bruce leaves first. He needs to get home and get some sleep. He has a sneaking suspicion that there will be several candy-high kids in class tomorrow and crazy kids sometimes have him seeing green. Clint goes next, making an offhand joke that living in Tony’s vents would be cheaper and nicer than his apartment.   
Steve stays for a moment, and Tony tries to hide his excitement. This is good, right? Steve is staying because he wants to, because the notes and the texts mean that maybe they can be friends or more than friends.   
“The party was great, Tony,” Steve tells his beer. He isn’t looking Tony in the eyes and that makes the man nervous. “You did really swell. I’m not sure how you dealt with the mix-up for the cake but you handled it elegantly. The night seems perfect from where I was standing.” Tony knows he must be beaming, his smile 600 watts and blinding.   
“Thanks, Steve, that-” Tony pauses, watching the ground, feeling like a teenager instead of a 27-year-old man with a six-year-old child and three PhDs. “That means a lot. I was worried.”   
“I don’t think you should have been,” Steve whispers, looking at Tony now. Taking a slow drink of his beer. Tony can’t help but notice the small bit of fake spider-web caught in Steve’s hair. The white standing in contrast to Steve’s golden blonde locks.   
When had they gotten so close together? Tony isn’t sure. He’s realizing, for the second time since the parent teacher conferences that Steve is several inches taller than him, a realization that sends electricity through his body. He is realizing for the first time how full Steve’s lips are. He can’t be one hundred percent sure but there is no way Steve was wearing those jeans when he got there. Because Tony has to recite the names of the original twelve Titans from Greek mythology, has to apologize to Jarvis, and has to think about the most complicated mathematical equation he knows before he can stop thinking about how nice those fucking jeans look. Steve is built like he was sculpted by the masters for an art exhibit.   
Tony opens his eyes again to notice how Steve is looking at his lips and that’s enough to drive him forward. He doesn’t mean to be clumsy about it, in fact in his head it was sophisticated and graceful, but Tony basically falls forward and his lips connect with Steve’s as the other man lets out a soft grunt of surprise before their teeth clash together. It takes only one second on Steve’s part before he’s wrapping his arms around Tony and kissing the man back with an intensity rivaled by a man receiving water after a two-day long trek through the desert.  Like if they stay connected like this, Steve’s hands on Tony’s hips, Tony’s hands around Steve’s neck and their lips caught then they’ll stay rooted to the ground, they won’t float away from exhilaration. Steve pulls him close as Tony finally, finally, runs his hands down his chest. The synapses of Tony’s brain pulling as tight as the threads of Steve’s shirt. One of them is going to rip and Tony prays it’s the shirt because he is dying to see what’s underneath and if his brain breaks then how will he ever know?   
The thought of Steve, shirtless, kissing him like this does two things to Tony. It undoes all his hard work regarding the twelve Greek Titans and that one equation because fuck, holy shit, even imagining it takes him one step further from the light of God. It also makes him moan, which Steve takes as an invitation. His tongue sweeps into Tony’s mouth, gently exploring and taking and giving and Tony’s knees are weak. Steve’s tongue distracts Tony from the second thing. He thinks he about to drop, about to pass out from a kiss, when Steve pulls away.   
“I,” Steve’s voice is husky, the pupils of his eyes blown wide. He leans in, touches his forehead to Tony’s.   
“So, wanna go out with me this weekend?” Tony asks, trying to focus on anything other than how Steve is physically holding him up because his knees are still jelly. “I can find a sitter for Peter, or if you don’t mind maybe Peter could come along? Or we don’t have to. I know you’re... well you’re you and I’m me and that might be weird because you’re my son’s teacher. Would that be weird? You know I haven’t read anywhere about teachers and parents, I mean not that I’m looking because I have a crush on you. Not that I have a crush on you I just… Please make me stop talking.” Tony sighs, taking in the laughter in Steve’s eyes. So many thoughts run through his head in that moment, he wonders how such a kiss could lead to nothing.   
“Yes, Tony, I would love to go out with you.” Steve smiles.  
Tony smiles back, softly, hesitant because everything tonight went wrong. Or so he thought. The cake was late, dinner was late, he had to send Happy out with his credit card to buy candy for the kids. But this, this seems so very right.   
  
  


 

 


End file.
